Is Me

In a school building,
Long time ago,
Two girls,
5,6 or 7,
Skins white
And the colour
Of a ripe butternut,
Put down another girl
Because her skin
Was the colour
Of the earth.
Her hair,
Thick with small tight curls.
Her hands,
Full of dark lines
Like a badly planned map.

The little girl
Wished her skin
Was lighter.
Her hair straighter
But her hands
Were hers to keep.

Time passed,
The girl grew,
She travelled,
She read
And soon,
The once little girl
Realised,
That her hair,
Her skin,
Her hands
Were just parts of her,
And the most important part
Was her mind.

That girl
Was,
Is Me.